


In a Stew on the Steps of the Palace

by Gang_Aft_Agley



Series: Let's Go Steal a Star Destroyer [3]
Category: Leverage, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Even If They're Only In This Peripherally, Gen, Let's Go Steal a Smuggler, Mom Friend Eliot Spencer, Multi, Rogue One Is Alive Because I Say So
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gang_Aft_Agley/pseuds/Gang_Aft_Agley
Summary: Jabba dying was Plan M, and the crew of theLeverageneeds to do a bit of damage control before they can rejoin the fleet.Also, how did Luke grow up on Tatooine and forget to pack sunscreen for this mission?





	In a Stew on the Steps of the Palace

**Author's Note:**

> Title Taken from "Into the Woods."

Their welcoming committee consisted of a single man, waiting with his arms crossed, silhouette stark black against the light of the setting suns.

"Any problems on your end?" Lando asked as he parked the skiff and vaulted over the side. _ Show-off, _Leia couldn't help but think.

"Nope, none so far, anyway." Eliot Spencer's grin was positively _feral_. "Minimal casualties among our people, no deaths, and the mayhem has subsided considerably. Andor's team is still spread out, doing mop-up, making sure we didn't miss anything, 'cause this place is a fuckin' _maze_. Erso, Imwe and Malbus are having a delightful time making bad shit go boom, while Rook's disabling every engine in the garage. Hardison's plugged in, doing his thing, with Nate and Sophie helping, but he's nearly finished, and Parker's almost done checking the ventilation shafts and secret tunnels." 

Luke and Chewie wrestled a struggling Han out of the skiff, who emphatically did _not_ want to go see a medic, but had no chance of winning the argument against both a Jedi and an overprotective Wookie. Artoo and Threepio followed, the latter still complaining with every step.  
  
"You're jamming all communications, right?" Leia demanded as she watched them head off.

"Yep, except for a direct encrypted line to the fleet in case of emergencies; main tower’s down, and there’s an observation perimeter a couple miles out in case someone wants to crash the party. Otherwise, nothing's getting in _or_ out until you say so, ma'am." Spencer propped a booted foot on the running board and offered her a hand. Taking it, she stepped down lightly onto the hot sands, glad that for all of Jabba's deficient ideas about clothing, he had at least provided her with proper footwear.

"Thanks for leaving the back door open, by the way, General," he continued, giving Lando a respectful nod. "I'm sure Erso would have enjoyed blasting through the main gate, but this was much easier in the long run."

Lando saluted sarcastically, and trotted after the still-struggling trio, leaving her alone with Spencer: Spencer, who was eying her up and down, but not in the lascivious way she'd expected. This was more ... frowning concern.

"Hey, Princess, don't punch me, but ..."

Leia barely had time to flinch as Spencer pressed a single fingertip to the bare skin of her upper arm, and snatched his hand back before she could slap it away. Instead, she swung for his jaw, but he easily ducked away from the blow and stepped out of her reach, hands up in a placating gesture.

"Yep, I was afraid of that," he said with a pained grimace.

"Afraid of _what_, exactly?" Her tone could have given a wampa frostbite.

"Sunburn. Here, take this," and he was already shrugging out of the loose robe he wore over his tac gear. "The medics have bacta gel, that should take care of it pretty quickly, but you don't want it getting any worse in the meantime." He held it open for her.

Leia slipped her arms through the sleeves and wrapped the robe around herself with a sigh of relief that _wasn’t_ just about protection from the suns; what was knee-length on him swirled about her ankles, meeting even her Organa aunts’ standards of modesty.

"I am kriffing _burning_ this nonsense as soon as I find something else to wear," she hissed through clenched teeth, cinching the robe tight around her waist. Spencer nodded approvingly, and fell in step beside her as she strode towards the smoldering remains of Jabba's palace.

"I'm pretty sure we can rustle up a nice big bonfire when the time comes, or you can just throw it in when we blow the rest of this place up. And if none of your crew thought to bring you a change of clothes, Sophie and Parker probably have something that'll do until we get back to the fleet."

Leia bit her lip, and cast about for a change of subject.

"Were there any more prisoners in the cells?" Spencer’s face twisted unhappily.

"Unfortunately not. Jabba wasn't exactly the type to keep 'em alive very long." He paused to help her clamber over the pile of flaming rubble blocking what was left of the main gate. "Took a few of our own, though: the ones who had the sense to stop fighting once the tide turned against them."

"What a _mess," _she murmured, looking around at the hole-ridden walls, bits of smoking and sparking machinery, and bodies strewn everywhere. Spencer shrugged.

"Not ours to clean up, thankfully. Just have to make sure the fallout stacks the deck in our favor." He kicked a rock out of their path. "The tip-offs are ready to go as soon as we lift the blackout, Kaytoo downloaded everything from the servers before wiping them, and Hardison’s in the middle of siphoning off all the assets we can find. Speaking of which..." his voice trailed off as he touched two fingers to his left ear, shook his head, and keyed something in on his wrist unit.

Leia watched, lips pursed. She'd never _liked_ that his team had their own personal comms, far better than standard Alliance issue, but since they weren't technically in the military hierarchy, she had absolutely no say in the matter. 

At least he was letting her listen in.

"...buy a Star Destroyer. We could buy _two_ Star Destroyers, and have plenty left over, just in this one account. Hey, Parker, you want a Star Destroyer?"

"It’d be way more fun to steal one." The thief's voice was tinny and echoed strangely, even over the comms: clearly, she was still in an air duct.

"Fine, I'll buy you a planet instead. But not this one, this one sucks. I'll buy you a _better_ planet, one that isn’t so damn hot. Two suns, two damn suns, how do people even _live_ here without their brains melting out of their ears?"

"Hardison!" Spencer growled, interrupting a rant that sounded more than a little rehearsed. "Are you almost done?"

"It's as done as it's gonna get. I'd need weeks to find _everything_: the slug had credits squirreled away all over the damn place, with accounts and shell corporations from Kuat to Sullust. What I can’t take, I’ve buried or transferred, though, so for all intents and purposes, Jabba's organization is officially flat _broke_."

"And anyone trying to rebuild from the wreckage would have to be a better slicer than you to find what's left?" Leia asked dryly.

"Better, possibly, or at least have more time, patience, and a better understanding of how Jabba's brain worked, Princess," Ford chimed in. "He was a secretive bastard, and paranoid to boot."

Spencer rolled his eyes as they continued down the corridor.

"And you’d know absolutely _nothing _about being secretive and paranoid, Nate." The laughter of several different voices echoed over the comm as Leia fought to keep from smiling. Ford sighed.

"Bite me, Eliot." Spencer didn't smile, but Leia could see the corner of his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"I'll leave that to Sophie, boss."


End file.
